


Sp//drverse Side Story: Butterscotch Bars

by 94BottlesOfSnapple



Series: Spider-Verse 2: Into the Devil-Verse [6]
Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Awkwardness, Bad Jokes, Crush at First Sight, Earth-14512, Fluff, M/M, SP//drverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/94BottlesOfSnapple/pseuds/94BottlesOfSnapple
Summary: Ned Leeds really needs help repairing his cybernetic hand, so he goes to Doc Nelson. He also meets the doc's extremely cute apprentice.
Relationships: Ned Leeds/Samuel Chung
Series: Spider-Verse 2: Into the Devil-Verse [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1440463
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55





	Sp//drverse Side Story: Butterscotch Bars

**Author's Note:**

> In terms of timeline, I imagine this happens sometime prior to the Interdimensional Field Trip, but I'm putting it at the end as a side story because it's not really tied in to the main plot.
> 
> All credit and blame for this pairing to the Team Red discord. :D

Ned Leeds knew about Doc Nelson’s place. But like, so did everyone. You couldn’t live in Midtown and  _ not _ know about Doc Nelson. But you didn’t go  _ see _ him, not unless you had A Real Problem, because he was a busy guy and also because Mei Li next door said he worked with the mob. Ned was in Lego League and academic decathlon — he wasn’t  _ built _ for meeting members of organized crime. They would sense it and crush him like a soda can on sight.

But. He had A Real Problem on his hands. And no, not an “I spend all my allowance on GenePop magazines” kind of problem, no matter what MJ thought. A real, actual, my moms are gonna ground me until I die of old age problem. See, Ned was a tinkerer. He liked to tinker. It was a whole thing. Hence the Lego League. But sometimes Lego League was not enough. Sometimes the tinkering bug hit too hard.

Sometimes Ned tried to do maintenance on his own cyber to get his index finger to stop squeaking whenever he bent it and accidentally severed the synthetic muscle. It didn’t hurt or anything, since he at least had the good sense to disconnect the hand from his wrist and his nerves before poking around in it, but. Replacing the torn muscle was about a thousand times more expensive than fixing an annoying squeak. He’d be stuck with a hand that couldn’t move its index finger until he and his moms could come up with the cash for some sleazeball Oscorp tech to fix it.

Or... He could go see Doc Nelson. Even if he  _ was _ scary, and even if he  _ did _ work with the mob, lots of people said he fixed stuff for free if you really needed help.

And Ned? Ned  _ really _ needed help.

He reattached his robotic hand, gathered up a Tupperware of bribes, took a deep breath, and headed out.

* * *

Doc Nelson’s place wasn’t ominous, exactly, but the outside was low-tech enough for it to be spooky. It kinda had to be though, Ned supposed, because otherwise Doc would’ve had, like, people spying on him and hitmen banging down his door or something. Which just made him all the more badass and cool, but it was also super scary to think about.

Since there wasn’t a camera or a doorbell or any kind of com, Ned knocked on the door. He felt a little like a spy in a holo-show, like maybe someone would slide open a grate in the door and ask him for a password. No one did, though. The door just opened, normally. Blocking it was a huge white guy with more hair than Ned had ever seen in his life. And, well... A big blond guy with a beard — there wasn’t really anyone else it could be. Doc Nelson was almost as scary in person as he had been when Ned was imagining him.

“Um, hi,” Ned said, which was a huge accomplishment considering the circumstances.

“Something you needed?” asked Doc Nelson. “I’m not buying subscriptions to anything.”

His voice wasn’t as gruff or deep as Ned had expected.

“I kind of broke my cyber?” Ned explained, holding out his hand palm-up to show off the damage to his finger.

“Muscle tear,” came the immediate diagnosis.

“Y-yeah, uh... Can you fix it?”

“How much have you got,” Doc asked, tilting his head as he looked Ned over.

“Um. Five bucks and some butterscotch bars...?”

That earned him a squint. Ned quailed before its power, offering up the Tupperware. And then Doc Nelson nodded, grabbing the box and opening the door wider.

“Fine. The kid needs the practice anyway.”

Ned had no idea what that meant except that he was hopefully gonna have a functional left hand again and be home before either of his mothers knew he was gone.

They walked down the stairs — Doc Nelson with an uneven, limping stride — and when they reached the bottom Ned turned to get his first glimpse at Doc’s secret basement workshop. He needed to memorize every detail for when he bragged about it to MJ later.

He was expecting a huge empty workspace with lots of scraps and tools. And while the basement workshop  _ was _ big and full of tools, it wasn’t empty at all. Feet kicked up on a workbench and tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth was a guy that looked about Ned’s age. He had short dark hair with front-parted bangs and was tapping away at the phone in his hands in a rhythmic pattern that usually meant some kind of mobile game. Doc Nelson cleared his throat loudly, and the guy startled. His feet dropped to the floor. He fumbled his phone, and it clattered onto the workbench.

And then he looked up. Right at Ned. His eyes were dark. And thoughtful — that was a thing eyes could be, right? Thoughtful? Like the person whose eyes they were had lots of very deep and important thoughts. In addition to the eyes, the mysterious stranger was, overall, very cute. Like, Ned had never thought noses as a feature were particularly cute, but he felt like maybe he could be persuaded in the case of this boy. That’s how cute he was. Even MJ would probably give him a good three seconds of admiration before she faked aloofness.

They stared at each other for what Ned was pretty sure was too long.

“Sam.”

The other guy — Sam — jolted at Doc Nelson’s address and stood, taking a few steps closer. He nodded to show he was listening but didn’t speak. Maybe he couldn’t?

“I’m leaving this one to you,” Doc ordered, jerking a thumb at Ned. “It’s a simple muscle strand replacement, and Wade just paged me — Ellie needs a house call today. I’ll be back in an hour.”

He proceeded to toss the Tupperware of butterscotch bars on his desk and pack up — grabbed a cane, slung a bag of tools over his shoulder, leashed up a dog that Ned hadn’t noticed before. The whole time, Sam watched with panicked eyes.

“Boss!” he finally blurted, which answered the question about whether he was mute or not. “You can’t just—”

“I can, and I will, and you need the practice. Play nice, Sammy.”

And that was the last word on the matter. Doc Nelson took his dog and his tools and his cane and thump-thump-thumped back up the stairs and out the door.

Sam groaned, clutching his hands in his hair.

“Hi. I’m. I’m Ned,” Ned offered, feeling a horrible, squirmy awkward feeling in his gut.

As a kid, Ned hadn’t always picked up on when other kids found him annoying or weird and wanted him gone. The way MJ told it, he now overcorrected into apologizing his way out of every human interaction. Which was not true. However. He did have a sense for that want-you-gone thing now, and Sam? Sam did not want to be left alone with Ned. And that wasn’t, like, a  _ great  _ feeling to deal with.

Instead of making any sort of verbal reply, Sam just nodded. Back to the silent treatment. Awesome. Ned sighed, disconnecting his cyber and laying it on the workbench in front of Sam.

“The muscle that needs replaced is in the index finger,” he offered.

Another nod. Sam popped open the finger panels, and traced the tip of his nail over the severed artificial muscle. Then he darted over to a cabinet and pulled out a replacement of the proper thickness. After bringing the whole length over, he used a pair of tweezers to pick out the damaged bits and compare lengths to cut a new one.

With nothing else to do, Ned shifted from foot to foot and watched. The silence was getting to him. He needed to say something, anything — but what?

The first thing to come to mind was a joke.

“Did you hear how the hipster chemist burned his hand? He picked up his beaker before it was cool.”

Sam paused, gave Ned a long and puzzled stare. Wow. Even his brow wrinkle was cute. He didn’t laugh, though.

“What was that all about?”

Ned shrugged.

“Figured it was worth a shot to try and break the ice,” he explained, embarrassed, “but you didn’t laugh.”

Sam mulled that over with narrowed eyes.

“You could always try again,” he suggested casually, ducking his head back towards his work.

And, if Ned wasn’t mistaken, his cheeks had gone a little pink. Maybe things weren’t so hopeless after all.

Ok. More jokes. Sure. Ned could do that. Totally. He had a million of ‘em.

“Oh?”

“Yeah! Like. Ok. So a photon checks into a hotel, right? And the bellhop asks where its suitcase is. And the photon says...” Ned paused to fight down his grin — it was one of his favorites. “The photon says, I don’t have one, I’m traveling light.”

This time, Sam laughed.

It wasn’t a big, loud laugh — just a little huff and a ‘heh’ — but his eyes kind of sparkled which was something Ned didn’t think eyes actually did in real life. So that was an experience.

“I’ve got one for you,” Sam offered as he gently fitted the new muscle into place. “How does a robot eat guacamole?”

“I dunno. How  _ does _ a robot eat guacamole?”

Sam’s mouth twisted, and he bit his lip. After closing the casing on the finger he’d repaired, he finally looked back over at Ned again.

“With microchips.”

Ned couldn’t help a laugh of his own. Then he shuffled closer, expecting Sam to hand over the cyber; instead, Sam popped open the main panel on the palm and set to cleaning, oiling, tightening. The whole time, they traded bad science puns back and forth.

Sam polished off the little competition with one about bot manufacturers ‘making’ friends, right as he sealed up the last panel.

“Ok, that was a good one. I’d give you a hand but, you’ve kind of already got mine,” Ned joked.

This time Sam’s laugh was louder, less controlled. It burst from between his lips — a bright little ‘ha’ — like a cough, like it had caught him by surprise.

“Let me give it back to you, then.”

His hand was warm on Ned’s arm when he steadied it to slot the prosthetic back into place. The click as it locked in felt too loud in Ned’s ears with Sam’s palm still cupped against his wrist.

“How does it feel?”

Weird but also kind of amazing, Ned thought immediately, before his brain caught up and realized Sam was probably asking about his hand and not... Whatever was happening in the feelings department. He flexed his fingers a couple times. Smooth movement, and not even the old creak from before.

“Feels good.”

“That’s,” Sam seemed to struggle for a word, before settling on, “good.”

At a loss for what else to do, Ned’s mouth took over for his brain and he started geeking out about Sam’s work. But, honestly, who could blame him? Ned knew himself how hard it was to keep your hands steady, and his cyber was an older model with outdated parts that not everyone knew how to work with. Giving it a tune-up in addition to fixing it was definitely going above and beyond.

“I got it fitted at the wrist, obviously, but it’s secondhand and that connector under the panel at the heel of the palm has been loose forever, I just haven’t had anything to solder it with, and... And I. Am rambling, ugh, please stop me.”

“I don’t mind. You really know your stuff. Not everyone with a cyber is that interested in knowing how they work,” Sam said, sounding impressed.

Impressed. Impressed by Ned. Which was amazing because even though they’d pretty much just met, Sam was... He was...

He was cool. Yeah, Ned decided, Sam was cool. Cool was a safe word. Cool didn’t have to mean  _ I think I fell in love with this guy I just met because he laughs at my jokes and thinks I’m smart _ . Cool could just mean... Cool.

So. Sam was cool. And that was all Ned was gonna think about that, because too much introspection would mean less attention for talking about Ned’s literal pet project to build a robot hamster or Sam’s work creating a program to counteract Oscorp and Stark-Fujikawa’s latest software encryptions or Pokemon Teamwork which they both were way into.

It was only when there was a clang of the door and the uneven thumping of Doc Nelson coming down the stairs that Ned realized how long they’d been talking.

“Still here?” he asked, giving them both a very judgmental eyebrow. “It was a simple repair, Sammy.”

“He got it done really fast!” Ned promised, holding up his hands with the palms forward. “Really! It’s my fault. I was... Just curious.”

Doc Nelson scrubbed a hand over his bearded mouth, closing his eyes. Ned was also pretty sure he muttered ‘oh boy, here we go’ — whatever that was about.

Only then did Ned notice that something was different about him. The fluffy golden dog was still at his side, leash trailing along the floor instead of in hand. He was still leaning hard on his cane. The duffle bag slung over his shoulder was the same — but it wasn’t alone. A large black briefcase had been clipped to it by the strap.

“How was the visit to Ellie, boss?” asked Sam, looking very pointedly at the briefcase as Doc Nelson set it against the wall.

Despite this obvious hint, Doc didn’t elaborate on the mysterious briefcase or its contents.  _ Mob money _ , Ned’s brain supplied before he could shush it. Doc Nelson sighed, unclipped the dog’s leash, and dropped his duffle down next to the briefcase.

“Rough. I could use something sweet after all that,” he said.

Making his way over to the big desk across the room, Doc Nelson discarded his cane and picked up the Tupperware of butterscotch bars.

“No!”

Sam yanked the box out of his hand.

“Sammy, what the hell.”

“It was my job,” Sam pointed out, hugging the Tupperware to his chest. “So it’s my payment.”

Doc Nelson dragged a hand down his face.

“Fair enough,” he relented.

Shaking his head, he dropped down into his desk chair. Once settled, the doc rummaged in the desk drawers for a minute or two, and finally pulled out some kind of candy bar to eat instead. He munched away as he brought up a holo-screen and scrolled through something with text too small to read from Ned’s position — basically, ignoring them.

“Maybe we could hang out again sometime,” Ned suggested to Sam, probably too eager. “I have a friend in band, so I usually go to whatever games she has to play at — what school do you go to? We could meet up!”

Sam shrugged, shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced away. He was trying to imply something, but Ned didn’t understand what it might be. After a couple more seconds of baffling silence, he pressed.

“What? What is it?”

“I... I don’t go to school,” Sam said at last, a sick, miserable look on his face.

It clicked, then. Sam was living off the grid with Doc Nelson for a reason. Or possibly multiple intersecting reasons. And Ned had blundered right into that, not paying attention. Assuming.

“Oh,” was all he could think to say, like a huge jerk. “I didn’t...”

“Out,” Doc Nelson ordered in a sharp voice, suddenly standing right behind Sam with his shoulders squared like he was ready for a fight.

Ned booked it out of the workshop like there was a supervillain on his heels and didn’t stop until he was safe in his apartment again.

* * *

After shucking his shoes and staring gloomily at the covered tin on the kitchen counter that held the remaining butterscotch bars, Ned trudged to his room. Then, with a groan, he flopped down on his bed. He’d really flubbed that up. Ugh. Sam would never talk to him again.

His phone gave a cheerful ping.

“Not now, phone,” Ned grumbled at it. “Let me wallow.”

It pinged again. Not MJ, then, she had this whole— emotional dominance thing that included never double-texting. Eventually, Ned’s curiosity got the better of him.

Turned out, the notifications weren’t for texts, they were for Pokemon Teamwork. He’d gotten a friend request and an in-game IM from a player named PikaChung.

_ Hey _ , read the IM,  _ this is Sam _ .

That was it. Nothing else. Ned wasn’t really sure what to make of it. Cautiously, he accepted the friend request, skipping past the little animation that accompanied a new team up. And then he spent like ten minutes agonizing over a response.

**LeedrNed: hey, are you doing ok?? sorry about what i said, i wasn’t thinking. hope you at least were able to enjoy the butterscotch bars.**

Almost immediately, there was a new message.

**PikaChung: You didn’t know.**

**PikaChung: Anyway the bars were good.**

**PikaChung: So I guess I forgive you.**

**PikaChung: :)**

Ned tentatively offered a smiley back, but wasn’t sure what else to say. Thankfully, Sam broke the ice by complimenting Ned’s roster. Feeling better with that reassurance, Ned poked through Sam’s profile too, and  _ his _ roster of pokemon.

About four in, a pattern began to emerge in the naming convention of the little digital critters. Bok Choy, Mashed Potato, Bean Burrito, Apple Pie. Ned shook his head and tapped out a message.

**LeedrNed: you named them all after food??**

**PikaChung: I don’t think the guy who named his after star systems gets to judge me.**

**LeedrNed: excuse you?? there is much romance to star names.**

**PikaChung: Fomalhaut. I rest my case.**

He had a point, but there was no way Ned was going to concede to it. They argued back and forth while Ned did some exploring missions, and never reached a consensus because Sam asked for Ned’s number. Like to text him. Outside the game. Because Ned somehow hadn’t screwed everything up by putting his foot in his mouth, and Sam still liked him.

Yeah, it was pretty great. Even better was Sam’s final message before logging off for the afternoon.

**PikaChung: Check out my new partner!**

So, Ned indulged him, clicking to Sam’s character profile. And there, right there at the top of the list, Sam’s newest partner Pokemon — a pikachu nicknamed Butterscotch Bar.

Ned didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.


End file.
